


Haremburger Helper

by BuddyWritesFic



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: F/M, Harems, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Multi, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddyWritesFic/pseuds/BuddyWritesFic
Summary: Along with his new position as Warmaster, Horus receives command of the Emperor's harem of Primarchs. Some of them are okay with this. Some of them are not. Sanguinius helps him with the task of getting their brothers on board.
Relationships: Horus/Sanguinius (WH40K), horus/all his brothers, past emperor/all primarchs
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

Angron’s fist struck Sanguinius’s face with a loud, meaty _thunk_ , but it did nothing to break his momentum. He surged forward and broke past Angron’s guard to punch him in the chest.

“How does this feel?” he asked as he dodged Angron’s grasping hands. He didn’t step quickly enough, and his brother pulled his arm hard enough to break a rib from where it joined to his spine.

“Good. It’s good. I want to rip you apart!” He moved to grab Sanguinius’s other arm, but he was stopped by a vicious kick to his gut, and he staggered and lost his grip. “The screams cry out for blood! Blood! Only in combat are they satisfied!”

“I know what you mean,” Sanguinius said. Angron tackled him to the ground and knocked him back onto his wings. He tucked and rolled to slam Angron’s head against the floor. “They never really shut up, do they? But I thought we could quiet them a little, so we could hear each other talk.”

Angron bit his wrist open, and blood flew wildly. “What would you ask of me?”

Sanguinius grabbed his jaw with his free hand and forced it open, almost crushing the bone. “I want to ask how you’re doing.” Angron bucked loose from his grip and headbutted him. Sanguinius punched him in the throat. “It’s a big change, the Emperor returning to Terra, Horus being appointed Warmaster. It’s a lot to adapt to.”

Angron dragged himself to his feet and dropped onto Sanguinius elbow-first, breaking his ribs beneath him. “I adapted to that slave-taking hypocrite’s presence, though it burned my nerves with the venom of a desert spider. I’m sure I can adapt to his absence.”

Sanguinius brought his knee up to meet Angron’s groin as he fell. “Yeah, I didn’t – _agh_ – think you’d miss him, but change can be hard all the same.” He struggled under Angron’s weight, six limbs flailing for leverage to push himself free. “If you need anything, if you want to talk, if you want to fight, I wanted to tell you I’m around.”

Angron stood and dragged Sanguinius to his feet by a cruel grip on his torso. He flung him across the room. “My agony is unceasing,” he said. “It is not lessened because my chain has passed from one hand to another, but neither is it increased.” Sanguinius flapped his damaged wings and caught himself in the air before he hit the wall. Angron charged. “I see your consideration. I do not feel it as I would in older times when I was more a man and less a beast. It cannot be a joy to me. But… what is left of me thanks you. If I need you, I will ask.”

They went on like that for some time, a mass of snapping bones and tearing skin, one berserker spending his rage on another.


	2. Chapter 2

Sanguinius was doubled over, face pale as death, vomiting frothy ale onto his boots while Horus rested a ginger hand on his shoulder. He had made a couple attempts to speak; both had been interrupted by uncontrollable retching. Eventually, he took his dataslate from his pocket and began to write.

Horus’s slate dinged, and he looked at the message:

_Pllease forgi;ve me. I’’m sorry to be late for our metting. And I’m furthr sorry to cmpound the error by givving you s;uch a disgraecful welcome._

“Don’t worry about it,” Horus said. Sanguinius was a large man, but he was still impressed by the volume of ale that had fit inside him. “Do you need an apothecary?”

Sanguinius shook his head no.

_I’m; fiine_

“Did you come straight from Russ’s ship?” Horus asked.

Sanguinius nodded.

“You don’t have to drink everything he gives you, you know.”

_Fenrisisn custom d;ictates otherwise. And the newss is good._

“Oh?” Curiosity cut through his concern. He hadn’t expected good news from Russ for months.

_II got a smile out of him. And a laugh. He sayss if you think he’s going to shir;k his duties from a sense of perrsonal distaste you don’t know ;what you’re in for, and you should prepare yourself to ssee what a true son of Fenris ccan do._

“He did _not_ say ‘personal distaste,’” Horus said.

_i paraphhrased a c;;olloquialism_

Finally, Sanguinius seemed to have exhausted contents of his guts, and he stood dry heaving over the puddle of poisonous ale. He shivered so violently he lost his balance and would have fallen if Horus hadn’t caught him.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he said. “Now let’s re-hydrate you before you die.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sanguinius blushed pink. “I like it when you whip me,” he said. “I like to hold your cock in my mouth while you work. I like it when you fuck me on your desk. I like it when you share me with your sons.” He took his brother’s hand in both of his own and knelt before him now. He kissed it with worshipful lips as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I like it when you let me lick your body clean.” He sucked Horus’s finger and looked up with pleading eyes, begging for permission to taste more.

Horus’s cock was hard in his pants. He was starting to understand why they’d never made any progress on discussing Sanguinius’s preferences. “Brother.” He tangled his hand in his blond curls, and he pressed into the touch. “You’re telling me what _I_ like.”

Sanguinius nuzzled his hand. “Two people can like the same things.”

“Not _all_ the same things and nothing else,” Horus said. “Even Alpharius and Omegon have differences.”

“That’s just what they want you to think.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “But I understand. You want me to surprise you. To keep things interesting. I can do that.”

“That’s not what I said.”

For a fraction of a second, ‘thoughtful’ gave way to ‘troubled.’ Then it passed, replaced again by ‘worshipful and aroused.’ “You want me to show more initiative.”

Horus took him by the shoulders and raised him to his feet. “I want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he said, gazing into Horus’s eyes. “All the time.”

“You are very good at telling me what I want to hear,” Horus said, kissing his head, “and I treasure that. But right now, as a thought experiment, try speaking without reference to your – admittedly extensive – knowledge of my desires.”

Sanguinius looked down. He was quiet, several times moving as though to speak and then thinking better of it. “I like it when you hold me,” he said.

Horus gathered him up in his arms, tucking his head to his shoulder and letting him wrap them both in his wings. Soft, feathery darkness. He guided them to the couch and laid down with his brother on top of him. Sanguinius rested his head on Horus’s chest, above his hearts.

“I like it when you rub my shoulders,” he said.

Horus reached under his wings to rub between his shoulder blades. The muscles felt hard and tense under his fingers. “You’re tight here,” he said.

Sanguinius shrugged. “I have a lot of joints.”

Horus rubbed slow circles with his fingertips. There were knots that felt like stone where the ribs met the spine.

Sanguinius stretched himself out and sighed. “I like to hear you talk,” he said, snuggling back into his position with his ear pressed to Horus’s hearts and lungs.

“What should we talk about?” Horus asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I just like to listen.”

“All right. I received a surrender from the Dasnian Cluster today. Not from their official government; from a splinter group of panicked civilians who had stolen the comm. codes. But I mean, I’m accepting it. I never turn down a surrender on a technicality.” As he spoke, Sanguinius relaxed in his arms, his stony muscles softening into flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

A tattered cloak of black crepe, a ragged black duck tunic, a shredded mass of fibers that had once been a black cape –

“You’re hard on your clothes, you know that?” Fulgrim moved aside a gore-stained black overcoat to see if something more suitable were hidden behind it.

“I guess,” Konrad said. “Do I have to wear clothes for this? I’m just going to take them off again.”

“You don’t have to, but it’s nice sometimes. You start fully dressed and become more disarrayed as the night goes on. It gives things a sense of progress. Makes more of an impression.”

“I could wear this.” He held up a crudely stitched lump of untanned human hides.

“That would make _too_ big an impression. We don’t want to overshadow the main event. Oh, feathers!” He picked up a mantle of night-black feathers. “Feathers are fun. I have something like this in purple. We could match.”

Konrad shrugged.


End file.
